Disclaimer: Alas, still don't own it. New stuff is mine, bizarre-o circumstances would be my fault as well.

Holy cow! I can't believe that...400 reviews...I never thought I'd see the day...you guys rock my world. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed in the past.

Alrighty, here's another chunk. Finals are coming up for us over here (even though most of my buddies are already out, Jeeze) so we'll see how updating goes.

Starting off with Christine...


Christine opened her eyes then quickly snapped them shut, trying to will herself back to sleep in order to fend off the pounding migraine in her skull. The maid had courteously drawn the shades and any other day Christine would have appreciated the sunny view from the balcony window but today…oh, not today thought Christine, not fully realizing that "never again" would be far more accurate.

"Christine?" Meg's voice chirped from the door. Without waiting for an answer, she swung the door open and walked in. "You've slept half the day away."

"Could you close the curtains?" Christine asked weakly, her vision blurring; even with the blanket over her face the light was unbearable.

Meg's tone shifted, "Christine, is everything alright?"

"Please, just close the curtains."

Meg immediately rushed to the curtains and Christine sighed as cool darkness replaced the cheery warmth. "Shall I call a doctor?"

"I don't know," Christine replied honestly, gritting her teeth together as her head continued to pound.

Meg left without another word, shutting the door a little louder than Christine would have liked. Some time later, Christine having no real concept of time in the midst of her migraine, the door opened again. Someone seized her wrist and held it in one hand for a moment then yanked her eyelids open with a thumb while she moaned.

"Mamma, what can we do?" Meg pleaded.

"Fetch some cool cloths and keep your voice down."

Meg immediately saw to her mother's commands while Madame Giry focused her attention again to Christine.

"Is that a new mark, Christine?"

"Mmfph?"

"On your neck. There's still dried blood on your nightgown."

"Could we talk about this later?" Christine whined, again yanking the covers over her head, thereby missing the baleful glare from Madame Giry that assured her there would be much "discussion" later before she stood and left the room. Meg passed her mother on the way in with a puzzled glance but set the cool compress against Christine's forehead after gently tugging the blanket enough to reveal her pale face.

"Meg?" Christine murmured, "I just need to get some sleep. I'll be fine."

Meg nodded. "Call if you need anything, Christine. I'll explain to Raoul."

Christine cringed momentarily remembering what she had to do but Meg missed it, already close to the door and shutting it quietly behind her.

Christine closed her eyes, trying to will the pain away but the effort of concentration seemed to make things worse. She opened her eyes widely as if unbelieving the force of her headache before shutting them hastily against any semblance of light. Cradling her head in her hands, she pleaded silently that it would end soon. A scream resounded from another room but she lacked the capacity to focus on anything coherent. Mercifully, Christine fell asleep and the pain began to ebb away.

∞†∞

"Oh, John!" Meg gushed, "Of course I'll marry you!"

An expression of heart-felt delight settled across the Baron's face as he accepted his fiancée into his arms, laughing joyfully. They broke apart just far enough for the Baron to lay a gentle kiss on her brow before settling into a tender kiss to her lips. He slipped the ring, his mother's ring, onto Meg's hand while tears of joy streamed down her cheeks.

"Oh, it's all so sudden. When?"

"As soon as you'd like. I'll speak with your mother directly."

"My dear John, I never thought I could be this happy. Truly, nothing could go wrong today."

She kissed her betrothed who accepted her gratefully, pulling her deeper into the kiss, propriety be damned.

∞†∞

Erik heard a screech. Recalling his own transformation, he hadn't expected Christine's to be easy and had been waiting for some sign. However, he realized before he made a mad rush for the door that it was someone else's scream, luckily, too, for Donald was watching him closely at that moment. He'd set his mind through a hundred different scenarios and made a few attempts to reach the door, only to be intercepted by a stony-faced Dane or the warning glare of another vampire.

Philippe watched Erik with a small smirk. "I know what you're thinking and I'm telling you it probably won't work."

Erik raised an eyebrow at the implication but waited for Philippe to continue, as he knew the man would.

"Perhaps if you had, say, a good friend who'd lend you a hand and, oh I don't know, distract everyone somehow…"

"Perhaps if I had a good friend, yes," Erik replied, the corner of his mouth quirking slightly.

"Perhaps if you, say, made it worth this good friend's while…" Erik arched an eyebrow again. "Or perhaps your just lucky to have a good friend as it is," he added with a wider smirk.

"What would this friend have in mind?"

"I don't know. I was talking about Ezekiel. I'm sure he likes you a hell of a lot more than I do." Erik made a skeptical grunt and Philippe shifted his tone to a whisper. "I'm only going to do this once and you'd better damn-well appreciate it." Erik didn't reply immediately, still digesting the information and not entirely certain where Philippe was going with this. Philippe rose to his feet, muttering, "The things I do and no one appreciates me."

∞†∞

The migraine in Christine's head was slowly, blessedly abating. She sighed with relief when she removed the cool cloth from her forehead, blinking and trying to focus her vision. There was a sharp knock at the door and before she could inquire, the door swung open and Erik shut it quickly behind him, nearly snagging his cloak.

"Christine, are you alright?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"Yes, my headache is nearly gone. How did you—"

"I'll explain in a moment. Now whatever happens next, don't scream. You don't want to draw attention to yourself right now."

"Erik, I don't underst—" She stopped and sank down to her knees. Erik ran over to her side and put one hand over her mouth to muffle her cries. The other hand remained steadfastly intertwined with Christine's hand though she was nearly cutting off the circulation to his fingers with a white-knuckled grip. Tears streamed down her cheeks and Erik whispered reassurance into her ear as agonizing seconds slowly ticked by. Finally, Christine's tension dissolved away and she leaned against Erik, lightheaded from the ordeal.

After a few minutes, Christine's curiosity had to be satisfied, "Erik, what was that?"

"Just your teeth settling."

"My teeth…"

"They have to change so you can feed properly."

"Feed? I don't…Erik, you can't mean…What did you do!"

Astonished, Erik watched as she sprang away and glared at him in shock and outrage.

"I thought that you understood."

"Understood what? What did you do to me?"

"Christine, for your own safety, you need to keep your voice down. Things will be better once you've had your first meal. There's someone else in the house, the Belmonts, they'll—"

"I don't care who else is in this house and I don't care who hears. I want to know what's going on, now!"

Erik gazed back at her forlornly, knowing full-well that this would not be easy for her and angry at himself for having not expected the revelation to be greeted in such a manner—not that he had expected joyous proclamations, something more like a grudging acceptance followed by a general gratitude acknowledging that they could now be together. But this…

Christine marched up and seized his collar…then gasped as she lifted him off the floor. Erik allowed it, noting that virtually any action on his part would probably be far from helpful. She set him down hastily then eyed her own hands as if they belonged to a foreign entity.

"How did…how..?"

"It's all a part of it, Christine. You're one of us, now. The two of us, you and me, are bonded forever."

Christine cradled her head in her hands and sat down on the bed. "This can't be happening."

"Christine…"

"I'm talking about my soul, Erik. What about my soul? Will God leave me?"

"I…I don't know," Erik admitted.

"I'll never see my father again," she whispered. "When I die, I'll be in eternal torment in the fiery depths of hell…"

"Christine, you won't die."

"You can't know that. Will God toss me aside if I pray to him? Do you understand what I've lost? What we've both lost?" Her voice was slowly escalating in her panic.

Erik tried to think of something to say, never a strongly religious man and desperately searching for some words of comfort. He thought back to some of her earlier prayers in the small chapel at the opera house but could think of nothing poignant to say.

"The Lord said that God would never leave us. But if I'm no longer human, what does that mean, Erik?" Christine sighed, closing her eyes tightly and trying to keep tears at bay. Erik sat down next to her, not saying a word but making his presence known and trying to be a source of comfort and stability.

Christine seemed to calm herself down after a few moments. She whispered with her hands clasped, "Nothing can separate us from God. There is no sin God cannot forgive of the truly repentant."

"Christine…" Erik soothed, moving a stray hair that had fallen across her face behind her ear.

"Don't, Erik. As much as I love you…I…I need time to figure this out. This is all wrong."

A sharp pang struck Erik's chest and he withdrew his arms from around her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized the change but the turmoil in the foreground distracted her as she sat pondering the consequences of eternal damnation and whether the hope and promise of grace passed to what she had become.

Erik watched as a shadow pooled near the door…then slid under it. Philippe shifted back into his proper form and adjusted jacket.

Erik smirked to himself, despite the circumstances. "How did you—"

"—if you ever speak of that incident downstairs to anyone, not only will I refuse to do you any more favors but you'll find yourself missing an ear and outside for your long and last glimpse of the sun. Just think of what a strange line that mask will make across your face."

"You offered to help, I might remind you. What do you want?"

"Out of time, Erik. They sent me to fetch you." He shifted his attention to Christine. "Congratulations! Welcome to the club." Erik gave a warning look which Philippe totally ignored (as usual). "What's the matter? Didn't take the news so well, eh?" Christine said nothing only staring forward at a place on the floor, still debating and praying silently. "We'll get something exotic in her stomach and she'll be fine. It's really not all that bad, Christine. Kind of fun actually."

She turned her head to look at him, disbelief etched plainly on her face. "I don't know if I'll ever be comfortable with murder," she said coldly.

"Okay…we'll lay off that until later," Philippe replied, mildly fazed by the look in Christine's eyes, mentally noting how fast a new vampire can master a truly frightening death glare…or that maybe Christine had it all along, just hidden deeply beneath her kind exterior. "Anyway," Philippe turned back to Erik, "You have to return to the basement."

Erik glanced back at Christine. "I'd rather not."

"You don't exactly have a choice. Christine, you'll have to stay here. Best that they have one last thing to worry about right now and the last thing we'd need would be a search party to wander into the basement, especially if that particular party happened to have…Oh, I don't know…Supplies to kill vampires, perhaps? You haven't met the Belmonts before, Erik. They don't stop. And before you make any snide comments, I'm going to insist that we go now." He started pushing Erik in the direction of the door, using all of his acquired strength to budge him slowly. "Just tell them that you left in search of a maid, considering how hungry everyone is they might actually believe you…except Aleta, and Donald of course but you obviously don't seem to care too much about what he thinks. As much as I'd enjoy seeing him hang you by your ankles, or at least try to, I think it's best if you keep your distance."

Erik shrugged away from Philippe's grasp and walked back over to Christine, eyes having not left hers since the beginning of Philippe's rant. "I'll be back as soon as I can, Christine. We have a chance now."

He cupped her cheek and she automatically leaned against the caress. "I just don't know what to do," she admitted.

"Rest now. We'll figure this out somehow." He kissed her forehead and allowed Philippe to pull him out of the room.

∞†∞

"…So that's how it's going to work."

"Perfect."

The owner of the first voice smiled. "I couldn't agree more." He shifted his attention to the third figure, "And you? Any insight you can give us on those in the basement?"

"I don't think anyone suspects me yet. They think this person is still mourning under some psychosomatic trauma brought on by a werewolf attack some time ago. Wonder if that was one of ours."

The owner of the first voice nodded his head. "Could have been."

The owner of the second voice questioned anxiously, "When can I lead the raid on them? When can I start the battle in the cellar?"

The owner of the first voice sneered. "Calm yourself. We wouldn't want anyone to overhear. Be careful not to let this eagerness or the original personality override your will, it only leads to problems."

A different voice called down the hallway: "Raoul? Where are you?"

The first voice rolled his eyes. "It's that girl again. Go back to your positions and be ready. You will now when it's time."

The other two men nodded, before heading off into different directions.

Meg ran up to Raoul's side. "Where have you been? I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Oh, just walking around."

She took hold of his arm and walked down the hallway. "I have some good news and some bad news. The Baron and I are getting married!"

"Congratulations," he replied, far from sincere.

"And Christine isn't feeling well, I'm afraid. Mother was going to check on her soon."

"I see."

Though Meg was confused at Raoul's lack of concern, she said nothing and instead led him to the sitting room. Something didn't feel right. Perhaps they had had a fight but surely nothing that couldn't be easily cleared up, Meg mused. Still, Raoul would have normally shown more anxiety. Meg pushed the thought from her mind, instead smiling warmly at her fiancé when she saw him reading near the large windows.

She didn't notice the peculiar smirk on Raoul's face…nor when he slipped out of the room.

∞†∞


Authoress Ramblings (because I do that): Alright, I'm no expert on theology when it comes to vampires but I just wanted to throw it out there that if anyone does have some random questions about God or Jesus, I may not know the answer but I do have some connections. Just to throw that out there.

Random Outburst: And I appreciate you, Philippe!

And as usual, Love it or Hate it, Please let me know! (Reviewers recieve copy of the secret videotape with Philippe's distraction)